Thanks to those who read Chapter 1; I hope you enjoyed it. I anticipate telling this tale in four chapters, so two more to go. The plot is derived solely from my imagination; Helga Kaminska, however, is based on a real lady, Bruce on a real man.
* * * *
I dressed the next morning as Andy had instructed. I still had no idea what to do about him. I didn't even know what he wanted. Was he just playing, seeing how far he could push me? If so, if I offered no resistance would he get bored? What was his end game? Surely this culminated with him between my legs.
Yesterday I'd been purposely late, but that had only amused the kid. Today I was on time.
"Good morning Ms. Kaminska."
I gave him a half smile, and unlocked my classroom door. He went to my office, sat in the chair facing my desk, turned his phone off, placed it on my desk. I sat down. He pushed a small box towards me. Inside was a tube of lotion and a red, spear-shaped object, about two inches in length with a flat base about an inch wide. I picked it up; there was some kind of gel inside.
"What's this?"
"It's a butt plug. You work the lubricant onto your anus, push some inside, then coat the butt plug. It will slide in easily. There will be no repeat of yesterday's discomfort."
I'd always liked anal play. Past boyfriends would bite my ass cheeks, lick my butt, slip a tongue or finger inside. I'd do the same to them. There were a couple of guys who, if they'd asked at the right time in the right way, I'd have let in the back door, but the stars never quite aligned. Hunter would have certainly taken my anal cherry if our affair hadn't been interrupted. I thought about last night, teasing Bruce about my backside.
Then I realized I should be objecting. "Look, I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing here, but...," I stopped. He was looking at me, his gaze imperturbable. I picked up again, but there was a whine in my voice when I added, "What do you want from me?"
"As I said Ms. Kaminska, we're on a journey. It'll be over before you know it. Now insert the butt plug."
I gave him my best withering stare, suppressed a childlike urge to stick my tongue out -that would only confirm my helplessness - and stood, back to the wall. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of watching. I worked the lubricant over my anus, pushed some inside. It was thick, creamy, and warm; it felt good. I picked up the plug.
"Ms. Kaminska, you forgot to lubricate it."
Dismayed by my first impulse, to thank him for reminding me, I coated the plug with lubricant. I remembered the nipple clamps. I was a virgin back there. Would this hurt?
As if he could read my thoughts, he said, "It'll be okay, just push it inside, nice and slow."
It slid in easily.
I felt, well, full. I wiggled my ass, the plug shifted position; I clenched my asshole, felt a tingle back there. I closed my eyes, focused on the sensation. The thing felt good. Imagine me, prudish Ms. Kaminska, standing in front of class, butt plug up my ass. Were there students, fellow teachers, wearing them? I felt wicked, wanton; my nipples hardened, my face flushed. The sound of students in the hallway hauled me back to reality. I opened my eyes. Andrew stood up to leave.
"It's top of the line; you'll love it. The gel inside is heat sensitive; it moves around."
I went to the teacher's lounge. Principal Johnson was there. A forty year old black man, conservative, professional, married, a bit overweight. Christie, his daughter and captain of our cheerleading squad, was one of my students. We chatted. What would he do if he knew there was a butt plug in my ass.
The plug, due to the heat sensitive gel, kept squirming inside my ass. This felt great. On the way back to my classroom I put an extra wiggle in my walk, enhancing the effect of the plug.
Yesterday I'd taught with half my attention on my breasts. Today was much the same, when a student went on too long or the class discussion wandered into the inane, I let it go; my mind was on my rectum. When sitting I ground my ass on my chair; when standing I leaned against the corner of my desk, driving the plug deeper inside.
By the time my second class ended my pussy was wet, my tits swollen. When Jon, one of the class studs, approached me with a question I turned to face him, arched my back, touched his shoulder. Was the gossip true? Was he big-dicked and great in bed? Did he fuck his girlfriend up the ass?
The third class filed in. My eyes had dilated; my breathing flattened out; I was aglow with concupiscent desire. Andrew, as he had the day before, led the class discussion, allowing me to focus on my backside. The class ended; the students headed for lunch; Andrew stayed and guarded my office door while I brought myself off.
I wrapped the butt plug in Kleenex to return to him. He handed me it's box.
"Keep it, there are instructions about its care inside. Make sure to keep it clean.
"Tomorrow we begin the second, and final, part of your journey. It gets more intense. Shave your pussy, wear panties, no hose, and a skirt that is either short or you can work up your legs to the same purpose. "
I started to object, but what was the point. I would do it; I had no choice; I had to ride this thing out. I gave him a sullen, "Okay," hoping he was telling me the truth, that we were almost done.
* * * *
On the way home I hit the gym, trying to burn off my anger at Andy, my shame about how I'd been reacting, and my libido, which was again racing out of control. I worked hard, but it wasn't enough. I went for a run. Still not enough. By the time Bruce got home I was ready for action.
Because my aggressive behavior the night before had made him uncomfortable, I decided to play the seductress, to let him feel like he was in control. I was solicitous, coquettish, flirty. It worked; we got in bed, we kissed. I stroked him, touched him, smooched on him, straddled him, ran my fingers up and down his tool, placed it at the door of my vagina.
He said, "I want to be on top." I rolled off him, guided him inside me.
We started slow. It was nice, but only nice. My anus kept intruding into my thoughts; it was empty, craving stimulation. I reached down, fingered my butthole. Good. I scratched it with a fingernail. Better. I pushed a finger inside. Even better. Bruce noticed my odd movements.
"You okay honey?"
The butt plug was in my purse. Could I get away with it? Its gel filling made it soft, pliant. Bruce was unlikely to feel it.
"Yeah honey, I just need to, you know..."
Bruce knew, or at least thought he did. In the bathroom I lubed up my ass and the plug, pushed it inside, then flushed; I had to maintain the fiction. I hurried back to bed. "Come get some Tiger."
The butt plug twisted and wiggled as his cock rode in and out of me. I pushed my hips into him; the plug pivoted. Our short break had moved Bruce back to the starting line. That was good, I wanted a long fuck.
I loved the double penetration, the plug thrilled twat and tush. I pulled him tight. I felt like yelping and yelling, but after last night I needed to be a bit more demure. I slid my arms through his, held on to his shoulders.
"Baby, that feels so good."
I lifted my legs to wrap them around him, then dropped them back to the bed. Remember: demure.
He kept fucking me. I humped into him, emitting a soft grunt each time his cock bottomed out inside me. He was making mewling noises. I twisted my hips; the plug jerked.
"EEEEEEEYYYAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Bruce picked up the pace.
"That's it baby, you feel so good inside me. You're so big and hard."
Bruce moaned, his hips began jerking spasmodically; he was getting close.